The Observer

Theme: Poetry From The Future

Here I am with pen and pad,
awaiting the rest I've always had.
Sheep by sheep, I count away,
a hundred, a thousand! Who can say?

All I can do to soothe my stress,
is to write it all till my eyelids rest.
I close my eyes to hear the sound,
of the song that the street hums aloud.

Not a single sound that fills the street:
a silence that sounds so incomplete.
Even vision seems to fail,
with lifeless lights that look so pale.
No body bathes in their light...
only emptiness bellows before my sight.

I rush outside in disbelief,
but when I try to go outside,
the bedrooms sight meets my eyes.
I try! And try! And try again!
But I'm taken back to where I began...

I'm tuckered out, I'll go to bed...
another person takes my stead...